


All this devotion (for a sinner like me)

by SerotoninUp



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Bad Things Happen Bingo, F/M, Ficlet, Future Fic, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Character Death, One Shot, Prompt Fic, Prompt Fill, The Return of the Bullet Necklace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:07:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24686617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SerotoninUp/pseuds/SerotoninUp
Summary: Lucifer stretches out his wings, shaking the ash from his feathers, then shrugs his shoulders to tuck them away. He turns to his left and glances down the beach. An empty stretch of sand greets him.But then a soft voice to his right speaks his name.“Lucifer.”He pivots toward the voice and takes in the woman standing before him. His brow furrows.“Urchin?”Beatrice huffs, unable to keep the smile from her face. “No one’s called me that for a long time.”
Relationships: Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar, Trixie Espinoza & Lucifer Morningstar
Comments: 31
Kudos: 226





	All this devotion (for a sinner like me)

The Devil lands on the beach in a silent swirl of ash.

In front of him, the Pacific stretches to the horizon, where the black velvet of the night sky and the inky darkness of the endless waters blur into each other. Only a few stars shine brightly in the heavens above. Clearly, L.A.’s light pollution problem hasn’t improved since the last time he set foot on Earth.

He stretches out his wings, shaking the ash from his feathers, then shrugs his shoulders to tuck them away. He turns to his left and glances down the beach. An empty stretch of sand greets him.

But then a soft voice to his right speaks his name.

“Lucifer.”

He pivots toward the voice and takes in the woman standing before him. His brow furrows.

“Urchin?”

Beatrice huffs, unable to keep the smile from her face. “No one’s called me that for a long time.”

Lucifer can’t speak, his throat tightening as he looks her over. The child he once knew has vanished. Her face is older, wiser, and carries fine lines of joy and sorrow. She wears a wedding band on her left hand. A cluster of bright flowers peeks out from the skin beneath the sleeve of her t-shirt. Her eyes have retained their mischievous sparkle, but streaks of gray twist through her dark hair.

There’s a strange feeling growing in Lucifer’s chest; some ominous heaviness, like thunderclouds gathering in his heart.

“You prayed to me,” he said.

She nods. “I did.”

There’s a bag slung over her shoulder. She drops it to the ground and pulls out a wadded-up, well-worn blanket. Sand swirls around their feet as she snaps it open and lays it on the beach.

She settles down cross-legged on the blanket, then pats the soft fabric beside her. “Sit with me?”

Lucifer remains on his feet. The storm within him draws closer, bringing with it a looming darkness that presses against the edges of his soul.

“Why did you pray to me?” he asks.

Beatrice sighs, and reaches into the bag once more. When she withdraws her hand, she holds a familiar black jewelry box. Wordlessly, she offers it up to him.

Lucifer’s hands tremble as he takes it from her.

He draws the lid off the box, carefully, and the darkness within him swells, like a whirling abyss opening up beneath his feet.

He finds himself on his knees on the blanket. He doesn’t remember falling. His attention is riveted on the fine chain nestled atop soft white padding inside the box.

He lifts it up and watches the spent bullet dangle in the air.

“When?” he asks. Grief turns his voice into a faint rasp, makes him choke on the word before it crosses his lips.

Beatrice places a gentle hand on his wrist, and he turns to her, his eyes burning, her face blurring as the storm finally breaks.

“Three months ago,” she answers.

The words crash into him like lightning, like a different kind of bullet than the one he grips in his fist, one far more painful and devastating. They leave behind a terrible, empty ache, a gap in his soul where once a golden-haired, miraculous woman breathed and laughed and loved and lived.

Beatrice’s arms wrap around his shoulders, and the sensation is strange to him, the comforting gesture far too alien. Kindness does not exist in Hell. Sympathy, empathy—they are concepts he learned to live without thousands of years ago.

Still, Lucifer presses his forehead to her shoulder and accepts the hug with little fuss. His breath comes too fast, the sound of it harsh and ragged.

“Lucifer.” Beatrice’s voice is soft, soothing. “She lived a long, happy life. She passed in her sleep. It was peaceful. She felt no pain.”

“A good death, then,” he murmurs. The ache in his heart eases ever so slightly.

He pulls away from her embrace to wipe at his eyes, and the delicate metal chain scrapes against his face. He’d forgotten he still held it, but he opens his palm and gazes at the bullet lying in his hand.

Beatrice reaches out and taps it. “She wanted you to have this. To—”

Her words catch in her throat, and she gives a little cough to clear it. Her eyes grow brighter. Stars gather on her eyelashes. “To remember her.”

Lucifer shakes his head. “I could never forget her.” But he unfastens the chain’s clasp and draws it around his throat. The bullet rests in the hollow above his collarbones, and it leaves a warm, slight pressure against his skin. It feels like the ghost of a kiss. It feels like a whispered _I love you._

He looks at Beatrice and manages a trembling smile. “Thank you.”

She nods, returning his smile with a shaky one of her own.

The Devil and the urchin sit together in silence on the blanket, listening to the quiet susurration of the waves against the sand.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a prompt fill for Bad Things Happen Bingo. Prompt: Grief/Mourning.  
> Title from the lyrics to “Never Let Me Go” by Florence + The Machine.  
> Thanks for reading!


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